


Mask On, Mask Off

by beezyland



Series: The Headfuck Breakfast Club [3]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Language, F/F, Gossip Girl AU, Masquerade Ball, Teenage Drama, The Headfuck Breakfast Club, gowns and masks and silly hats oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:44:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezyland/pseuds/beezyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's funny how transparency can thrive in a room full of masks. It’s terrifying how one night, one masquerade ball and one slipup caught on camera can change the game entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask On, Mask Off

_Gossip Girl here. Well, isn’t the kingdom abuzz?_

_The annual Masquerade Ball, yet another benchmark in the UES dynasty, is fast approaching. As with the medieval court of days past, a masquerade allows a class governed by a rigorous standard of excellence and etiquette to engage in a night of gluttony, lust and overall sin beneath a literal mask of anonymity. In theory, a cloak of disguise provides a leveled playing field for nobleman and servant to mingle almost as equals if only for a night._

_So who’s ready to waltz? More importantly, who’s riding the struggle carriage without a gown or a date? We’re ready for the freeing fashion frenzy of the century. Are you?_

 

 

…

 

 

By some miracle, Piper has been able to successfully avoid any and all snobby social obligations for the last few months. It’s starting to look like the upcoming masquerade extravaganza is about to kill her streak.

As all the other Constance girls celebrate the end of another taxing school day, Piper stares blankly at the decorated inside of her locker. At the center of a collage is a photo of her and Larry on the beach in the Hamptons a summer ago. He's sweet, if scatterbrained, and they've been together since he was assigned to be her escort at Cotillion. Just as she starts to question her relationship (and sexuality, honestly) Piper’s phone buzzes against the bottom of her metal locker with a flood of new texts.

The first makes Piper smile. It's from Morello, asking if they can meet up later today. The second makes her roll her eyes—her mother's assistant, Eliqua—warning Piper that she “best be getting a dress and mask for the dumb ass ball” (Eliqua’s words exactly) before Mrs. Chapman has an aneurism. 

"Are you excited for the masquerade or what?" Polly asks, popping out from nowhere in a way only she can. "I've had my gown on reserve for months! If yours looks anything like mine I swear I will kill you, bitch."

"Don't remind me." Piper shuts her locker before they start walking down the hallway toward the front of the school. "I still need to scrounge up an outfit. Ooh, text me pictures of yours just to be sure."

"I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the part where Piper Chapman isn't prepared for a soiree. Where've you been lately, P?"

Piper nearly stops in her tracks, hit hard with hazy memories of sucking Jello shots out of little plastic cups at Nicky’s loft and listening to Alex passionately judge different ales in the back of a filthy bar as an awful band plays on a dirty stage for a punk crowd. Piper thinks she's starting to build a tolerance for the stuff even if everyone laughs and points, threatening to Instagram her reaction every first taste. It might have been peer pressure in the beginning. She’d do a shot to shut Nicky up, but Piper's come to welcome that bit of fuzziness around her brain, how all her troubles slip away and everything around her is suddenly funnier than it was an hour ago.

“Hey Chapman!” Pete Harper shouts as he snuffs out a cigarette against the front gate. He’s with Christopher, Lorna’s sweater-wearing bagpipe-loving crush Christopher as they hang out just off Constance Billard property.

Pete Harper, St. Jude’s newest transfer and the frontman of the bagpipes band, has “new money” written all over him. His business tycoon father invented the prototype for those sports shoes with the toes and his newest stepmother is a former model. Though his last name is also Harper, there’s no familial relation between Polly and Pete (that anyone knows about), which is good because if they were related that would make Polly’s giant crush on him pretty creepy.

“Piper!” Pete shouts again. “Tell this wanker that his bagpipes suck! He thinks it’s the heart of the band. Can you believe this fucking son of leprechauns?”

“McLaren,” Christopher hisses. “My family’s Scottish, asshole.”

Piper has never actually had a real conversation with the tall, lanky Christopher despite being in the same place at the same time almost weekly. All she really has to go off of is all the gushy stuff Morello says about him and the way Nicky tenses whenever the guy’s name comes up and Alex’s passionate hatred toward their band. From what Piper’s seen so far, the guy is a grade-A snob and acts like one too.

“I admire your attempt to be different,” Piper says. “Who else has bagpipes in their band? _But_ different is only good when it doesn’t totally suck and, well…”

The guys stare at the blonde, totally lost.

“She’s agreeing with Pete,” Polly translates.

When Pete jumps up and thrusts his fist into the air, his uniform shirt rises just a bit, almost making Polly swoon at the bit of skin on sight. Meanwhile, Christopher rolls his eyes and turns up his nose in disagreement.  

“Don’t worry, man.” Pete, the touchy feely type, pats and then rubs Christopher’s chest. “No matter what anyone says about your bagpipes, you’ll always have your little groupie. Piper, you hang out with her. What’s her name?”

“If you’re talking about Morello you should probably shut the fuck up,” Piper says, “especially before Nicky overhears or finds out you’re talking about our friend.”

Christopher throws his hands up in frustration. “I never ask for her to try and make awkward conversation and follow me around all the time! As her friend, could you tell her to stop? Especially now since Angela and I are back together. _Someone_ already told her I was talking to your friend at the rave.”

Pete does a terrible job at hiding the way he snickers.

“Dating a girl from Chaplin,” Polly hums. “We shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

Pete tosses his head back with a full on laugh and slaps Christopher on the shoulder, probably a little harder than intended. His eyes then fall on Polly who nervously twists from side to side and returns his stare.

“You ladies going to the masquerade?” Pete asks.

“Who isn’t?” Polly elbows Piper playfully. “I hear Larry has a little something-something planned for this one.”

Piper looks up at the clear blue sky, avoiding the teasing look from Polly and the wolf whistle from Pete. Christopher has already tuned them all out, fiddling with his phone. He mutters something about how they’re going to be late though Pete can’t stop sneaking looks at Polly.

“Alright, alright. Well, I guess we’ll see you at the ball, ladies.” Pete coolly throws his jacket over one shoulder as he and Christopher start walking down the street, but not before throwing Polly one last inviting glance and a wink. Polly continues to stare after them even after the boys disappear around the corner.

“Did you see that?” Polly asks excitedly. “I’m making that mine.”

“Oh, nauseating.” Piper can’t help, but be honest.

Polly bumps her best friend with her hip. “Come on! You and Larry have been together so long I think you’ve forgotten the joys of chasing boys.” As they head to the library, Polly watches Piper closely. “Hey, are you and Larry doing okay?”

“Yeah, fine. We’ve both been really busy, you know, doing our own thing with school, extra curriculars and family drama. The usual. Maybe this masquerade _is_ a good thing. Larry and I can finally have some time to ourselves, act like an actual couple.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that Larry has something wildly romantic planned for you!”

“I won’t get my hopes up. He always means well, but he _is_ Larry after all.”

Polly hugs her books tight to her chest and gives Piper a look that makes her feel guilty upon impact. “You don’t give him enough credit. The poor schmuck is hopelessly devoted to you.”   

Hopelessly devoted is a bit of a stretch, but Piper doesn’t mention it aloud. Knowing Polly, she’s just going to make her feel worse. If hopelessly devoted means always jumping to please her then, sure, Larry’s that. He might not be one of those people who make your brain melt simply by existing, more every day average, but he’s who she always thought she’d date, someone reliable, who her parents approve of. It isn’t a whirlwind love affair, but stable and easy. Piper knows she can always count on Larry to be there when needed and there’s something attractive about that.

At least, that’s what Piper continues to tell herself.

 

 

…

 

 

Of all the boroughs, Lorna Morello knows Brooklyn and Queens like the back and front of her hand. She only really started commuting into Manhattan since meeting Nicky and the lifestyle that comes along with her.

Imagine Lorna’s surprise when Piper suggests they meet in a chic boutique. She finds Piper inside with her iPhone between her cheek and shoulder, arguing with whoever’s on the other end. Right away Lorna feels out-of-place, pulling her sweater tighter around her body, wearing her Dmitri’s uniform underneath. When Piper waves her dainty fingers in hello, Lorna bobs awkwardly and waves in return. As Piper continues her phone conversation, something about refusing to wear a corset, Lorna takes a look around the shop.

It’s spacious and thoughtfully lit in a way that highlights the clothes and jewelry on display. Lorna lets her fingertips trail across a rack of dresses, swearing she can feel how the silk and sequin are more expensive than anything she’s ever touched before. Her large doe eyes are drawn to the glass showcase in absolute awe.

“Hello, my dear!” an older, flamboyant gentleman greets Lorna from behind the counter. “Let me guess, you’re here to find a few accessories to complete your masquerade ensemble? Well, you have come to the right place! I have the perfect thing for you!”

As the man talks with exaggerated hand movements, so genuinely enthusiastic, Lorna’s throat goes dry and her joints lock up. She can’t move or speak, simply watches as the salesman pulls out a black velvet box from behind the counter. With careful, gloved hands, he removes a remarkable diamond tennis bracelet. Lorna’s eyes go even wider as the strategically placed ceiling lights catch the round cut diamonds and make them sparkle. Honestly, in Lorna’s very humble opinion, this bracelet puts the necklace from Titanic to shame.

“Would you like to try it on?”

“Oh no, no, I couldn’t—”

“Think of doing anything but!” Piper adds, sliding up to her side. The blonde bumps Lorna with her shoulder and smiles encouragingly. “She’d love to try it on along with your finest dresses.”

“Uh—”

“Fabulous!” the man cheers. He gently takes Lorna’s wrist and clasps the bracelet around her before sighing dreamily. “Just as I suspected. It looks incredible on you and fits like a dream!”

“Perfect,” Piper agrees. “You don’t have anywhere to be, do you, Morello? I just saw a gown that would look so beautiful on you.”

“I don’t exactly have an occasion to wear this sorta stuff,” Lorna says coyly. She lifts her arm and admires the bracelet, feeling like she’s living in a dream. “And I can’t even afford to touch any of this stuff.”

“It’s just for fun,” Piper insists. “Come on! We can talk and play dress up at the same time.”

When Piper thrusts a frilly dress into her arms, Lorna can’t resist. They pick out different outfits for each other and try on dress after dress, mixing and matching different garments with different masks. Lorna spins in a short, strapless dress in front of a three-panel mirror and snaps a selfie with her crappy phone with a smiley face drawn on it with nail polish. As Piper tries on her own dress, lace and floor-length with an intricate neckline, Lorna takes a picture of the bracelet still around her wrist and gasps when she realizes what time it is.

“Shit!” Lorna curses. “I gotta get back to work.”

Piper drops the ivory stick mask away from her face and turns to Lorna, alarmed. “You’re supposed to be at work right now?”

“I drove the delivery van to run a few errands for Red. I do it all the time.”

Lorna’s ready to hustle back to the curtained area of their private dressing room, but one of the masks laid out on the plush couch catches her eye. As if in a trance, Lorna walks over and lifts the mask into her hands. It’s a lion mask, leather and hand-painted with shades of orange, gold and touches of black.

“This would look perfect on Nichols, right?” Lorna muses.

Piper laughs. “She definitely has the perfect hair for it. I asked Nicky about going to the masquerade and she laughed right in my face, which I should probably be use to by now. What about you? I’m sure it isn’t too late for my mother to get you on the guest list.”

“Oh no, no, I work, but thank you. It’s nice of you to offer, Chapman. All of this is real nice of you.”

“Any time,” Piper says with a warm smile. “Why did you want to meet up again?”

“Oh! Nicky’s birthday is comin’ up. Knowing her, she’d just want to sit around, drink beer and eat ice cream cake at the loft, but I told Alex we should do something nice for her. Can’t say I’m surprised Vause’s one suggestion is you get in on the planning.”

Lorna can’t fight the smile that curls the corners of her red lips even though she can see the start of an embarrassed blush on Piper’s cheeks. Lorna knows for a fact that Piper and Alex don’t talk about what’s between them even though all of their friends and they themselves know it’s something worth exploring. Regardless of all the complications, Lorna thinks they’re cute together and they’d be even cuter together as a couple.

There was a time where the very idea of two girls getting physical made Lorna uncomfortable, probably thanks to the endless commentary the her family provided. It is yet another thing that’s changed since meeting Nicky. 

“Absolutely!” Piper clasps her hands, thrilled. “I love surprise parties!”

“Course you do.”

Lorna skips over to the changing area, tracing the intricate white gold detailing of the tennis bracelet with the tip of her index finger.

 

 

…

 

 

“Of course not! Fuck that, Red!” Nicky drops a heavy box onto the metal counter in the back of Dmitri’s squished, humid kitchen. She scratches at the hairnet straining to contain her thick curls and defying science by momentarily succeeding. “I am not serving food to my asshole classmates and their snobby, asshole families at some asshat party!”

Red drops the two boxes in her arm onto the countertop with an angry thump. The fierce Russian matriarch gives Nicky a look so sharp it could physically cut. “You aren’t proud to be working here?”

“Aw ma, you know I am.” Nicky’s shoulders slump and her eyes soften almost apologetically. “But those bitches I go to school with are cruel and I’ve got another year and two months in that hell,” Nicky says softly. “No way I give a shit about what they say, but life’s easier when they don’t have shit _to_ say.”

Red stares at her long enough to make Nicky feel the need to fidget. Where do you think Nicky learned that little trick?

“Fine,” Red says, “as long as you can find someone to fill in as a server. I’ve already got Gina, Norma, Lorna and the boys working the event.”

“Whoever I swindle into taking my shift, they need working papers?”

“It’s only a one time thing, I hope,” Red replies. “I’ll just cut you the check and you pay your replacement.”

“Is there a hair code?”

Red lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Does it get any worse than yours?”

“Hilarious, mommy.”

Red pinches Nicky’s cheek, but it only lasts a millisecond before Nicky jerks away with mock annoyance. Red’s lips curve slightly, a smirk in the making, but her eyes are maternal. Just then, Lorna pushes into the kitchen with the biggest, happy-go-lucky smile, singing like she’s always singing, shrill and off-key.

Nicky shakes out her shoulders, sinking down into her indifferent, annoyed façade. “Hey Morello, where the hell have you been while the rest of us were, oh, _working_?”

“I went on a run for Red,” Lorna replies defensively. “You got a problem, Nichols?”

Nicky just needs a distraction and Lorna makes it clear that she isn’t willing to be her plaything in that regard either. Not to mention Lorna clearly isn’t happy to have Nicky ruin her mood and pull her out of whatever fantasy is playing in her head.

“Don’t you two start,” Red warns. “Not today. I already have a migraine. My idiot husband agreeing to cater some fancy smancy party without even consulting me _and_ we can’t do Russian! What does he expect?”

“Martha Stewart probably,” Nicky replies.

Red looks ready to smack Nicky upside the head so Lorna steps in with the keys to the delivery van and a thick envelope stuffed to the max. Red takes both and gives Lorna’s shoulder a squeeze before moving along to the other side of the kitchen. Nicky starts peeling potatoes, blatantly ignoring the way Lorna leans across the counter and shamelessly stares at her.

“You know, Nichols, if you _finally_ got around to getting your drivers license _maybe_ Red would let you take the van for a spin too.”

Red snorts with laughter in a way that’s very much _a like that’s ever going to happen license or no license._

“This is frickin’ New York City!” Nicky shouts, exaggerated hand movements and all. “I get around just fine.”

“Yeah, with your fancy driver.” Lorna picks up a potato and a spare peeler, but before she can even think to start, Red walks by and takes both away from her.

“You are strictly front of the house,” Red says firmly. “I don’t need any more smiling faces carved into the produce thank you very much.”

“Yeah,” Nicky says snottily. “Strictly front of the house.”

Lorna pouts, anxiously twisting her fingers together. “I just thought to be helpful.”

There’s a pounding on the back door and when they look down the short, narrow hallway there’s a dark-haired girl waiting just outside, visibly impatient, but hot enough that she can get away with it.

“Nicky! Nicky!”

“Jesus fuck,” Nicky mutters. Red isn’t happy about this and Nicky knows with the glare her othermother shoots her. Everyone knows not to bring personal matters to work. Nicky drops what she’s doing and pulls off her silicone gloves before heading to the screen door. “Babe, what the hell did I say about dropping by when I’m working?”

Lorna can’t help herself and sneaks glances at Nicky’s newest flavor of the week. She pretends to be interested in the boxes on the counter, running her fingers along the rough cardboard, but then her eyes flicker over to the hot girl whose face doesn’t light up when she sees Nicky. Lorna thinks it definitely should. 

Nicky doesn't notice Lorna observing from afar because her back is to the kitchen and Lorna might not even realize what she's doing, but Red is very aware. The look in her eyes is probably irritation, wondering why she hired children to work for her, but it could also be apprehension. Red may have raised all boys, but she knows the drama that tends to plague teenage girls.

"Lorna," Red calls out. The petite girl literally jumps and quickly turns to Red with a bright, alert smile. "Do you really want to help?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright. Wash your hands and do exactly as I do." 

Lorna nods eagerly and does as instructed. She can be a little awkward and clumsy at times, but she’s nothing if not determined. Red’s hands move so swiftly and with such ease. Lorna does her best to follow along. On some subconscious level, Lorna really is happy to have something to occupy her time and headspace.

"This masquerade ball is big deal stuff," Red explains. "Some of the most important people in Manhattan, hell, in the whole country are going to be there. Everything needs to be perfect so we're going to practice till we get it all right."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Everyone loves your food, Red! Best in Queens. Best in the country."

Moments like this remind Red why she bothers with the girl. Despite how they go from flirting to bickering in a matter of seconds is surely an annoyance, but Lorna is such a positive presence and brings light to the restaurant. When Red looks over to her other daughter of sorts, Nicky is busy sweet-talking the brunette through the screen door. Lorna glances over when Red does, but immediately re-focuses on the task at hand.

“I bet the whole ball is going to be amazing.” Lorna sighs wistfully. “I wish I could attend instead of work. Not that I don’t wanna work for you, Red! I love working here. But then there’s Nichols who won’t be attending or working. If I were her, I’d have my dress and my mask all reserved and altered to fit just right and maybe order some new shoes online.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side. Don’t ever forget that.” The Russian woman looks over and Nicky is still taking her sweet time, proving at least some of the talk about her. "Any day now, Nicky!"

Nicky quickly says goodbye and walks back to the prep area. “What can I say? Chick can’t get enough of me.” She swings the cabinet door back and peers inside. “Ma, we’re running low on those whole hand cooking condoms.”

“You’re going to the ball,” Red says firmly.

Nicky’s face drops and she nearly drops the silicone gloves. “What? No.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion. You don’t want to work the event, fine. But all your friends are either working or attending. The last thing any of us need is you left to your own devices unsupervised.”

“I don’t need babysitting, Red.”

“C’mon, Nichols! It’ll be fun!” Lorna shouts. “Chapman has got this mask on reserve just incase you change your mind. I think you’ll really like it and I can live vinecariously through ya.”

“What?” Nicky blinks, then realizes. “It’s _vicariously_.”

Lorna looks very seriously for a moment, poking the potato peeler in Nicky’s direction. “Yeah, then tell me what’s the point of Vine? Videos that let you experience someone else doing something stupid without actually causing yourself bodily harm.”

“Jesus Christ, Morello. Those are two completely unrelated things.”

“How many times do I have to warn you two to quit it in one day?” Red intervenes. Lorna lowers her head and continues to peel potatoes as Nicky tugs on a glove until it snaps. “If you don’t want to dress up and enjoy the food your family slaved over then I guess I could always use another server,” Red sings in a wavering voice that’s probably as close to singsong as the woman gets.

Nicky grumbles beneath her breath and slaps on the second glove. “Just don’t expect me to wear one of those god-awful period piece of shit dresses.”

Red grins triumphantly and Lorna can’t help, but giggle as Nicky gets back to work.

 

 

…

 

 

By the time Lorna gets home from work, the Morello house is dark and eerily quiet.

Her dad works night shifts and her mom, who’s been bedridden going on a year now, is probably already asleep. Though it’s nice that the TV isn’t pushing max volume and her dad isn’t shouting at whichever wide receiver dropped the ball this time, it also makes Lorna apprehensive. Though it’s nice to come home to less chaos than usual, their dad’s absence almost always means her siblings are up to no good.

When Lorna walks inside, the TV is on, perpetually playing ESPN, the only light and sound in the house. Beer bottles and glasses and cans are all over the coffee table along with empty bags of chips and jerky and a half-eaten brownie. Mikey is passed out on the couch, one arm hanging off, still in his work uniform. The first thing Lorna does is shut the TV off and kick her brother’s muddy shoes off of their grandmother’s shag rug, the only thing the woman had to leave them in her will.

“Mikey, is that a pot brownie? You know what happened last time dad caught you bringing that shit into the house and drinking all his beer. Mikey!”

Lorna gives his shoulder a shove, but it’s no use. His work schedule is almost as bad as their dad’s and his backpack is carelessly left on the ground, a week’s worth of untouched homework stuffed inside. Honestly, it’d be a miracle if he didn’t have to repeat senior year. That drastically increase the likelihood of Lorna and Mikey being in the same grade, taking the same classes and just the idea makes her sick with embarrassment.

Underage drinking isn’t exactly unheard of in the Morello house. They live with an _out of sight, out of mind_ mentality. Their dad drinks so often he wouldn’t be able to tell if there’s more or less empty beer bottles, just slaps Franny with a crumpled twenty and sends her to buy another case from the corner store. Lorna takes the empty bottles to the kitchen, lining them up with the others near the sink. There’s a post-it stuck on the microwave that says:

 

_Nuke it. Mom ate. Do homework. –Dad_

 

He tries. He really does. In his own quiet, detached way, he tries to be a good parent. He didn’t ask for his wife to get sick or to have kids that aren’t exactly geniuses and find themselves mixed up with trouble more often than not. If he isn’t working nights then he’s sleeping or picking up shifts at one of the neighborhood’s many pizzerias. His one escape is watching his TV programs. Lorna has her own escapes, though she hasn’t been hanging around Nicky’s as much lately. 

Lorna pops the microwave door open and inside is a tray of lasagna. She pulls it out and grabs a plate and knife. As she cuts herself a piece, Lorna starts humming and it quickly turns to singing, high-pitch and with such gusto.

“You can’t sing for shit, can you?”

An arm hugs her around the waist from behind and Lorna’s instincts kick in quick. She thrashes until she’s free and slides into attack mode, holding the steak knife at the ready. Little things her brothers have said to her about street smarts and self-defense flood her mind. Lorna hears a bellowing laugh and sees a bulky man with the buzzed head, probably in his twenties, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. He’d probably be considered good-looking if not for his smarmy smile and dark, beady eyes.

“Calm down, kid! Look at you, little Lorna Morello.”

Lorna doesn’t relax, not by a long mile, just grips the knife even tighter. It feels wrong, this person being in her house at night. It _is_ wrong. On top of all that wrongness, someone calling her _kid_ other than family or Nicky almost makes her angry.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Lorna says shakily, wagging the knife. “If my dad catches you here…”

“Well, your pops ain’t here, is he?”

Lorna watches his every move as Buzz Cut goes to the refrigerator and yanks it open. He whistles to himself and rummages through shelves as if he has a right to, as if this is his house.

“Why are you here all the time?” Lorna asks. “I thought Franny dumped your ass a long time ago.”

“Morellos talk a good game, but when the chips are down and money’s tight…” He laughs. “Your sister had a couple parking tickets that needed to disappear. You know what I’m saying. I know you aren’t as innocent as you look…”

Buzz Cut leans against the refrigerator door and throws Lorna an appraising look, looking her up and down, sucking on the inside of his cheek. Nothing about this feels okay. It feels far from safe. If she hadn’t fucked things up with Nicky, Lorna would be out the door by now and on her way into Manhattan.

“Check out that ice,” Buzz Cut coos, slowly approaching her. Lorna grips the handle of the knife until it hurts and leaves imprints in her hand. Buzz Cut takes her free arm and inspects the diamond tennis bracelet hanging off her wrist. “Who’d you fuck to get that? Damn, little Lorna Morello.”

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Lorna tears her hand away and turns, pulling the sleeve of her sweater down over the bracelet so her sister won’t see. Franny rushes into the kitchen and goes to stand between the two, her arms folded and her back to Lorna. Franny can’t shield her sister from a lot in life, but she tries and does so fiercely. Despite Franny’s valiant attempt, they all know who has the power here.

“What? I’m just chatting with your sister,” Buzz Cut replies. “I remember in high school when I’d come to pick you up for school dances and shit, little Lorna Morello would be playing with her dolls in the corner. She ain’t no kid no more.”

“Yes, she is,” Franny says bitingly. “She’s still a kid.”

Buzz Cut laughs and snags a cigarette from the box on the kitchen counter. “Going out for a smoke. Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

He grabs Franny and yanks her against him. He doesn’t even give her time to react or steady herself before crushing his lips against hers. Lorna can’t watch. She has to look away. Not out of embarrassment, but disgust. Once they hear the front door open and shut after him, Franny turns to Lorna with such solemnness, borderline horror in her eyes.

“Lorna, look at me. Did he touch you?”

“Like it matter if he did or not,” Lorna hisses. “He’s a cop, Franny. They get away with murder… He said you’re fucking him because of parking tickets?”

Her words rupture Franny’s strong front as she leans forward against the kitchen counter, eyes filling with shame. “How else do you suggest I pay for that shit? I work at a fucking diner and no one tips like they should. I do this and it all goes away.”

“You mean he’s staying over _again_?” Lorna asks angrily. “He’s been over all week! Did he move in and you just aren’t sayin’ anything? We share a room, Franny! Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“Mikey’s crashed out on the couch. Take his.”

“With how many times we’ve walked in on him jerking off in here? Every inch of his room is probably covered in splooge!”

Lorna pulls a face of distaste and it makes Franny laugh aloud despite how tired she looks and their dire situation. Lorna always seems to have that effect on everyone she encounters. She somehow manages to make the worst of situations a little lighter if only for a moment.

“Why don’t you go stay with your rich little girl friend?” Franny suggests. “I figured that’s where you’d be anyway.”

“That’s not exactly an option anymore…”

“Why not?” Franny’s expression lights with curiosity that quickly melts into concern. “Something happen? I warned you about being friends with a dyke, didn’t I? She touch you or something?”

“No!” Lorna thinks back to that afternoon in the loft and the way their mouths came together and stayed that way for quite a time. She might not have imitated it, but Lorna now realizes she’s partly to blame for how long they lingered. “Things are just…weird between us and not because of anything Nicky did. I made things that way. Not worth mentioning, really.”

“Well, wherever you sleep tonight just make sure to lock the door,” Franny says firmly. “It’s fucked up, ain’t it? Mikey can pass out on the couch without a care, but I gotta tell you to lock yourself away.”

“We shouldn’t have to worry about that kind of shit. This is our home.”

“Well, we worry about a lot of shit we shouldn’t have to. It ain’t fucking fair ma got sick and we had to grow up fast, but this is what we’ve got. You can run off with your rich friends as much as you like, but you’re gonna have to grow up one day, Lorn.”

Franny anxiously taps the cigarette box against the edge of the counter and it makes Lorna frown.

“Some men don’t like smokers,” Lorna sings.

“That dick ain’t a man,” Franny mutters. “You eat dinner yet?”

“I’m not so hungry anymore.”

“Well, you gotta eat something. Lasagna. Your favorite.” Franny sees how tightly Lorna’s holding that knife and gently pries the cutlery out of her hand, setting it in the sink. “Hey, promise me you will, huh? Eat something.”

Lorna nods and Franny goes out for a smoke, but not before grabbing a blanket from the hallway closet and laying it over Mikey. Once Franny walks out, Lorna stares long and hard at the tray of lasagna. She rarely turns down a meal, but can’t bring herself to eat it, not even for Franny. Lorna shoves the tray back into the microwave, grabs her backpack and heads upstairs.

She goes through her nightly routine, trying to push all else from her mind. Lorna grabs some stuff from her room and sets up camp in her brother’s. She starts doing her homework, but hearing Franny and Buzz Cut fucking through the insanely thin walls of the old house does nothing for her concentration. When she can’t take it anymore, Lorna shuts her textbook, crawls out the window and sits on the roof, looking out over their dark neighborhood while playing with the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist.

 

 

…

 

 

The first thing Piper does once she’s home is take a little trip to her brother’s room, which, knowing Cal, is a different world entirely. The walls are plastered with posters of comic book heroes and hobbits and there’s even a glass display case for his action figures. Instead of going out and getting a high he can’t pay for, Cal has taken up World of Warcraft, questing to look better than other people with better gear than other people faster than other people. Piper doesn’t get it, but knows it keeps Cal occupied and out of trouble.  

“So you’re an elf,” Piper says, “like Orlando Bloom.”

“A _night_ elf. The night elves, both ancient and reclusive, have played a pivotal role in shaping Azeroth’s fate all throughout history. Piper, you _newb_. And you know we only refer to fictional characters forced into movie adaptions by the name given to them by original creator.”

Piper wants to roll her eyes as she sits at the foot of her brother’s bed, kicking her feet back and forth, fiddling with a Yoda plush doll in her hands. She totally could roll her eyes and Cal wouldn’t even notice with how he’s across the room at his computer, paying her little attention.

“You like being someone else?” Piper asks quietly. “Just for a little? That’s totally cool. I think I like doing the exact same thing.”

She thinks of weekends (and even some week nights) with Nicky and Alex and occasionally Lorna. Every night she wakes up curled into Alex’s side, mouth dry and head pounding, Piper swears it’s the last time, but then she gets a text or Nicky shoves her into the back of a car at the end of the school day and the vicious, terribly fun cycle begins again. She doesn’t tell Larry the details of her misadventures. Her parents believe her when she says she’s sleeping over Polly’s. It feels like a secret nighttime life and Piper secretly loves it.

“If this is your segue into trying to talk me into going to that dumb masquerade feel free to throw in the towel now,” Cal says. “No way. Mom already tried.”

“Come on! There’s going to be masks and free food and Pete Harper is going to be there so spiked punch for all!”

A knock on the door draws their attention and it’s Miss Claudette, the head maid. She’s known all of the Chapman siblings since birth and has been working for the Chapman family for even longer. The look on her face lets you know right away that she doesn’t take anyone’s shit, especially not from her employer’s spoiled children.

“Miss Piper, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Thank you,” Piper says sweetly. She tosses the Yoda doll back onto Cal’s bed and smoothes her hair, turning back to her brother. “Think about it. Larry and I are going to be there and you’re welcome to hang out with us. Don’t worry about feeling like a third wheel.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind. I probably hang out with Larry more than you do.”

Piper doesn’t question that, just walks out and follows a perpetually impatient Miss Claudette down the long, sophisticatedly decorated hallway. They reach the foyer adored with expensive paintings and sculptures, but it’s empty.

“She was just here.” Miss Claudette huffs irritably. “You know your mother and father doesn’t like your little friends wandering.”

“She?”

“Right here!”

Alex Vause, in all her black skinny jeans and black square-framed glasses glory, steps out of Mr. Chapman’s office with a dozen red roses in one hand and a giant heart-shaped box of vegan chocolates in the other. Piper stares at her skeptically, but can’t resist the thin line of a smile that graces her lips.

“What’s all this?” Piper asks.

“You like it?”

“Who doesn’t like flowers and chocolates? Thank you?”

Alex shifts the flowers in her hand and squints at the little card attached. “I’m sure Your Cuddle Bear will be pleased to hear that.”

Piper rolls her eyes and snaps the flowers and chocolates away from the dark-haired girl with the sly smile. “Give me that.” Piper brings the roses up to her nose and inhales deeply, all without taking her eyes off Alex. When Alex starts to walk around, hands behind her back, inspecting the atrocious, expensive art, Piper looks at the card.

 

Pipes,

Can’t wait to spend a magical evening with you.

\- Your Cuddle Bear

 

“Miss Claudette, can you put these in water for me?” Piper hands the flowers over to the older woman who does as instructed, leaving the two girls alone. “Do you want a tour? I see you already started on your own.”

“I really had my fingers crossed that the door closes to the front would be the Chapman’s SM sex library. Imagine my surprise when I walk in and it’s all old books about Stock Market data.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Piper shakes her head. “So, you were just In the neighborhood, I assume?”

“You read my mind.” Alex smiles and how does she make fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose so damn sexy?” “The magical night Your Cuddle Bear speaks of, is that the masquerade ball?”

“Yup. Did Nicky tell you about it?”

“I’m actually required to attend. My boss’ on-and-off sort of girlfriend is the party planner and they’re on at the moment so everyone in upper management is required to show face…along with a few of the lower rungs.”  

“ _Technically_ , you’re required to not show face because it’s a _mask_ -erade.”

Alex chuckles the way she always does when Piper says something dorky and immediately regrets it. “You got me there, kid.”

“Why are you really here, Alex?”

“Not much other than you.”

Alex fixes her with this stare that makes the giant penthouse foyer feel so small all of a sudden. The way Alex looks at her is terrifying, but at the same time Piper never wants to look away and never wants Alex to stop looking at her that way.

“You know, my, uh, my boyfriend is going to be there. At the masquerade…”

Alex doesn’t even blink. “Cool. I’m looking forward to meeting Gary.”

“ _Larry_. I swear you and Nicky do that on purpose! And I just recently learned that the Nichols have known the Blooms longer than I have.” Piper shakes her head. “You know, it’s a Venetian masquerade, which means you are going to stick out like a sore thumb with your black skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors.”

“Could say the same to you. Does J.Crew make ball gowns?”

“You’d be surprised,” Piper replies. “Glasses weren’t invented either.”

“Neither were contacts so I guess I’m screwed either way.”

Just as Alex steps closer, the front door swings open and Bill Chapman walks in and he isn’t alone. Piper recognizes the other man almost immediately. He owns the boutique Piper visited earlier this afternoon and he looks downright pissed.

“Daddy,” Piper says cheerfully. “You’re home!”

Piper knows him as a good man and a loving father, but Bill Chapman can be tough and firm when need be. If he weren’t, they wouldn’t be living the way they do, where they are, and with the economic and social power that backs their family name. He’s protective, especially when it comes to his only daughter, and it shows with his suspicion upon noticing Alex.

“Daddy, this is my friend, Alex Vause.”

“And how do you know each other?”

“We’re friends,” Piper says, confused by her dad’s tone that sounds more accusing than anything else. “We met through Nicky.”

 _Of course_ is written all over Bill’s face and Piper’s lips drop in a frown. Nicky already has so many people judging her without really knowing her and Piper hates that her parents are names on that list. It’s another reason why she keeps her social life a secret.

“Piper, we need to talk. I’m sorry, but your friend is going to have to leave.”

“Dad—”

“It’s cool,” Alex says. “I’ll see you around, Pipes. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Chapman.”

Alex discretely brushes her fingers across the small of Piper’s back as she walks around her and to the door, showing herself out. Piper would call her father out on his behavior, but the boutique owner is still in the room, waiting patiently. His presence makes Piper nervous, rightly so.

“Piper, this is Mr. Masterson. He says you were at his shop earlier today with another girl. Now a twelve hundred dollar tennis bracelet is missing.”

Piper’s eyes go wide in a way that would be comical if this wasn’t such a shock.

“Excuse me, but did you say th-the bracelet went missing?”

“We have it on surveillance, Miss Chapman,” Mr. Masterson says coldly. “Your friend tries the bracelet on and never gives it back before sneaking out while you were still in the private changing room and my employees were busy with other customers. Because you and your mother are longtime, greatly valued customers, I’ve decided to hold off on involving the authorities. All we want is the bracelet returned and unharmed.”

“Who is this girl, Piper?” Bill asks.

“Morello,” Piper replies, as if in a daze, still trying to digest all of that information. “She…she lives in Brooklyn.”

“Another friend Nicky Nichols introduced you to?”

“Mr. Masterson,” Piper says, transitioning into polite, charming mode. “Sir, I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding. She’s a good friend of mine and I know for a fact that she wouldn’t do this on purpose. She was just in a hurry to leave. I’m sure I can just call her and get it back.”

“If she hasn’t pawned it yet,” Bill adds gruffly.

 Piper pulls her phone out of her pocket and quickly dials Lorna’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail, which means her phone is either dead or she’s deliberately avoiding contact.

“What’s this girl’s address, Piper?" 

“Dad, no,” Piper says. “Let me take care of it.”

“It’s late already, I wouldn’t want you going to Brooklyn right now,” Mr. Masterson says, turning up his nose. “If the bracelet isn’t back in my hands by tomorrow, make no mistake, Miss Chapman, I will report this.”

“Thank you, sir!” Piper says, forcing her lips into something like a smile. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“I’m sorry for all of this,” Bill says, walking Mr. Masterson to the door. “Children, you know? We’ll have all of this sorted out as soon as possible, I assure you.”

As soon as Mr. Masterson is out the door, Bill turns to his daughter with dark disappointment in his eyes. He’s never looked at her like this before and it isn’t a good feeling whatsoever.

“I warned you about hanging out with that Nichols girl.” Bill shakes his head, pacing toward his daughter. “Her mother is a good friend of ours, yes, has been for a long time, but it’s no secret she won’t be winning any parent of the year awards, at least not in this lifetime. It’s no secret the things Nicky gets into and the people she gets into it with.”

“Daddy, Nicky has nothing to do with this.”

He gives her a deadly look for interrupting and Piper shuts up fast, reminded of that other side of her father. “As I was saying, you are not Nicky Nichols. You grew up in a good home with a good family. You should know better, Piper.”

“I’m going to fix it. I will.”

Bill refuses to address it anymore and tells her to wash up for dinner. He walks into his office and slams the door after, leaving Piper alone in the foyer, sad and a little more than stressed.

 

 

…

 

 

Public school sucks. School in general sucks. Lorna hates it.

The buildings are crumbling and covered in graffiti. The teachers are all worn out and tired. Their goal is more to contain the kids so they aren’t on the streets being menaces rather than to teach them and prepare them for higher education. Majority of the students are resigned to their fate, to become minimum wage employees if not gangbangers or pregnant, single parents. Lorna wants so much more than this place has to offer.

“Damn! Look at white girl rocking those rocks!” Maritza Ramos grabs Lorna’s wrist and inspects the bracelet that glitters even beneath the shitty florescent lighting. Lorna’s sick of being manhandled and roughly pulls away.

“Are you dating a jewel thief?” Blanca Flores questions.

“No,” Maritza answers before Lorna’s brain can even catch up to how she’s suddenly surrounded. “She’s fucking that rich lezzy bitch that goes to school with Flaca. Don’t think we don’t see you batting your rainbow lashes all for that Mary Macho.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Lorna says venomously. “That’s a hell of thing to say about someone whose house parties you’re always crashin’ and stealin’ liquor from. Nicky’s even considered stocking the bathrooms with Plan B just for you.”

Martiza’s faces goes neutral and she tries to step up to Lorna, but Maria holds her back.

“Easy, chica,” Maria says soothingly, always the voice of reason among them. 

“Yeah,” Blanca says lightly. “I’d lick pussy for shit like this too. Probably less.”

“There a problem here?” Tricia tosses her ratty backpack to the ground and pushes her way through the wall of Spanish speaking girls, going to stand at Lorna’s side. Despite being small in stature, Tricia tries to act tough, but Maritza and crew just laugh at her little act and her cornrows.

“Not at all,” Maritza says sweetly. She falls back and gives Lorna one last intent look. “See you in gym, puta.”

“Bitches,” Tricia spits at the backs of the retreating girls. “Yo, don’t let them get to you. The little one’s just jealous you and Nicky are tight, but her and Flaca go to different schools and bitch at each other all the time.”

Lorna watches Tricia, surprised that she jumped in to back her up. When things with Nicky got weird, Tricia made it clear that she is team Nicky. She practically cut Lorna out of her life until Alex and Nicky told her to ease up. When Tricia sees her staring, she puts on a bright smile and gives Lorna’s shoulder a playful shove.

“Yo, why are you starting shit with Maritza them anyway?”

“I wasn’t starting anything,” Lorna replies. “They just came over and got all in my face. No idea why.”

“So Nicky asked me to take her place as a server at some fancy party or something tonight.” Tricia picks her backpack up off the ground and tosses the strap around her shoulder. “Looks like we’re gonna be coworkers for the night. Sweet, huh?”

“Yeah, sweet.”

As they walk down the hallway together, Lorna is sure to keep tugging on her sleeve, sure to conceal the bracelet underneath.

 

 

…

 

 

Nicky does what she always does when life doesn’t go her way, except now instead of heroin or Lorna Morello’s attention, it’s sex with random hot girls. 

(Random hot girls that are often petite and always brunettes. Nicky may have a type, but, no, she does not have a Lorna Morello Complex. Shut the fuck up, Alex Vause.)

Nicky is well aware that she uses lesser addictions to distraction her from bigger ones, but knowing doesn’t make it easier. If it isn’t this then it’s that so it might as well be this. And right now that _this_ is moaning her name in a bathroom stall with Nicky on her knees.  

The bathroom door creaks open, but Nicky doesn’t stop the skilled movements of her hands and lips. Everyone knows what this bathroom is for and faculty members have their own bathrooms so they wouldn’t be caught in this one.

“Nicky, we need to talk!” Piper shouts. “It’s urgent!”

Nicky smirks at the confidence in Piper’s voice and her steps as opposed to when she first approached Nicky for help finding her brother. It says something about their friendship. How Nicky’s so easily distracted, almost totally forgetting the mostly naked girl in front of her, also says something, but nothing Nicky wants to confront at the moment.

“Nicky!” Piper bangs on the stall door. “It’s about Morello!”

If she almost forgot before, Nicky completely forgets now, springs to her feet and wipes her mouth on her arm. The girl mutters, “What the fuck?” but Nicky pays her no attention and pulls the door open before the girl can even make herself decent.

Piper’s eyes skirt toward the girl who’s in the process of getting dressed again and her gaze lingers long enough for Nicky to notice and laugh. She rounds her arm around Piper’s shoulder and steers her to the door and out into the hallway.

“Are you sure you aren’t into pussy in general, Piper?”

“Does Morello have a history of petty theft?”

“Shit.” Nicky combs her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of the way. “What did she do now?”

“ _Now_?”

“She isn’t an internationally jewel thief, doesn’t even have a record or anything. It isn’t pathological. Just little things. Candy. Gum. Lipstick…lighters. She’s also great at picking locks, but, y’know, mostly a side effect of Brooklyn.”

“This isn’t funny, Nicky.”

“Tell me what happened, Chapman.”

Nicky and Piper sit by the school pool as Piper explains, so torn up about this while Nicky nods along. Unfortunately, she isn’t very surprised. Despite her appearance and the way she carries herself, Lorna Morello is no angel. It’s something Nicky has come to know, even like in a twisted way. It just sucks Piper has to find out this way.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” Nicky mutters, mostly to herself, staring into the pool water. “She’s working the dumb masquerade tonight, but doesn’t report to Red till five. We’ll drop by her house after school. The thing about Lorna is she does things sometimes. Impulsive shit that doesn’t make sense.”

“Don’t make excuses for her, Nicky.”

“I’m not making excuses!” Nicky shouts defensively. “I’m just telling you it’s what she does sometimes. She says and does the craziest shit, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a good person.”

“I want to believe you, Nicky. I really do.”

 

 

…

 

 

The _West Side Story_ original sound track recording plays from an old stereo as Lorna gets ready for work. All the lovely voices manage to distract her or calm her nerves. It’s apart of her routine when getting ready for one of Red’s catering gigs. Lorna usually ends up singing the songs in her head and it makes lugging a tray around a crowded room a little more bearable.

Mikey kicks her door open and almost causes Lorna to draw her lipstick off the corner of her lips and across her cheek. Her brother leans in the doorway, shoving Doritos into his mouth, not caring about the crumbs that scatter all over the ground.

“That fucking cop just got into our shower and now he’s singing fuckin' Katy Perry and not even the good shit Kanye let her in on neither,” Mikey says with a full mouth. “Get this, the fucker’s been using my aftershave. Fran’s been fuckin’ him for the whole neighborhood to hear and the dude smells like me. How fucked is that?”

“Did ya really almost mess up my makeup just to give me an update on that animal?”

“Naw, actually your scary lesbian girlfriend is downstairs. I think she was trying to throw rocks at your window, but you’re blasting this shit, ruined the movie moment. And she didn’t even have the decency to bring along Hot Vause.”

“Alex is gonna beat the shit out of you if you don’t quit hittin’ on her.”

“And I would love every second.” Mikey invites himself into the room she shares with Franny, turns off the music and grabs her buzzing phone off the edge of her dresser. “Look, you’ve got like a dozen missed calls. The point of having a phone is using it.”

“Oh, I had no idea! Thank you,” Lorna says sarcastically. She steals her phone away, fighting the anxiety that blooms in her chest at the reminder. She knows her phone has been ringing all day, but buried it at the bottom of her bag and pushed it from her mind. Now that Nicky’s involved, there’s no more ignoring what’s been right in front of her face all day.

Lorna heads down the stairs and sees Nicky and Piper by the front door. Piper is fidgeting, staring at her shoes, while Nicky’s eyes dart all around, drinking it her surroundings. They’ve been friends for a while now, but this is the first time Nicky has actually been inside of the Morello house. Lorna feels the bile rise up her throat, knowing her house is a dump, something she never wanted her friends to see.

“Sweet digs.” Nicky smirks up at her and motions to a family portrait on the wall. “The little one in the white dress, with the pigtails and the missing teeth, crying her eyes out, that you?”

“I-In my defense, the photographer kept wavin’ this creepy puppet in my face—”

“Where’s the bracelet, Morello?” Piper charges ahead of Nicky and for a second it looks like she’s about to hit Lorna, who doesn’t even bother to lift her arms and defend herself. Deep down, on some level that penetrates what she tells herself and what she pushes out of her thoughts, Lorna knows she’s at fault here.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Lorna asks with a nervous little laugh that gives her away. She can tell a damn good lie if she can submerge herself in it, allow herself to be tangled in her own webs, but not when caught off-guard like this and especially not when Nicky is looking at her in this way, with such concern and maybe a little disappointment. “I was going to give it back, I swear.”

Piper’s eyebrows nearly shoot up into her hairline. “You were? Mother and I shop there all the time. We have an account and they have security cameras. Did you really think you could get away with it?"  

“I don’t know,” Lorna says quietly, and with such honesty. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I don’t even remember taking it, really. It was a blur and suddenly I had it!”

“Suddenly you had it? The owner came to my home!” Piper shouts, more out of fear than anger. “He talked to my father! And in his twisted logic he’s blaming Nicky and I just need the bracelet back _please_. Just give it to me and I can make all of this go away.”

Lorna nods frantically. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course.”

“See, Chapman.” Nicky clasps her tense shoulder and gives her a little shake, hoping to loosen her up a little. “It’s just a little mistake. All copasetic, huh?”

Lorna grabs for her backpack on the couch and rifles through the small outside pocket. She feels around and her sorry expression turns to confusion and then dismay. Lorna shoves the clutter of empty cereal bowls, beer bottles and overflowing ashtray to one side of the coffee table and dumps the contents of her backpack out onto the other. Books and folders flop out along with pens and pencils, but no tennis bracelet.

“I-it’s gone,” Lorna says shakily. “No, no. I had it at school and now it’s gone!”

Piper's face drops. “What do you mean it’s gone?”

“I mean it’s not fucking here!” Lorna turns the pockets of her backpack inside out and gives it a little shake. “I was wearing it last night and this morning, but then I put it in my backpack before gym…” Lorna’s expression hardens. “Those fucking Puerto Rican whores!”

Nicky and Piper exchange looks at the outburst, then race after Lorna who nearly runs out the front door, heart hammering and fire in her eyes.

 

 

…

 

 

“Those fucking Spanish girls” as Lorna refers to them frequent a local park where boys play basketball shirtless and a drug deal is probably going down under a nearby tree, not too far from the playground where children chases each other around. Maritza pushes a stroller in circles as Maria has her daughter upright in front of her. While holding the little girl’s hands, Maria praises her in Spanish every time she takes a wobbly little step. Blanca isn’t too far away, writing “Blanca + Diablo forever” on the plastic slide.

Lorna cuts across the park, a girl on a mission, with Piper and Nicky at either side of her, hustling to keep up. Once they finally slow down in front of Maritza, Lorna and Piper look ready for battle while Nicky curses, wipes at the sweat on her forehead and pulls out a cigarette.

“Look who it is,” Maritza sings. She mutters something in Spanish, but finds herself distracted by Lorna suddenly stepping up to her. Lorna is small in stature, but with her rolling up on you, she can be fucking intimidating.  

“Where’s the fucking bracelet, Maritza?”

“What fucking bracelet, gringa?”

“The bracelet!” Lorna stomps, would probably throw something if she had the means. “The one I had up until gym, a class I have with you. You were giving me such grief over the damn thing just this morning and now it’s gone!”

“Bitch, I didn’t take your shit!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”

Lorna grabs for her purse and Maritza yanks it back. “Watch the Prada!”

“Like we can’t tell it’s a knockoff!” Lorna shouts in return.

Blanca comes running up to Maritza’s side, assessing the situation with her dark eyes and ready to step in if it necessary. Nicky sees her and gently takes Lorna’s arm, pulling her back just a step.

“I don’t have your dumb bracelet!” Maritza shouts. “What would I do with it other than get mugged wearing it around here?”

“Pawn it,” Nicky suggests between drags of her cigarette.

Piper dramatically turns to Nicky, hair whipping over her shoulder. “Don’t give her any ideas!”

“I don’t have it,” Maritza says. “I swear on my daughter’s life.”

“I can pay.” Piper’s desperation seeps through her words. Nicky touches her shoulder to keep Piper from literally dropping to her knees as she begs. “I can pay you so much more than you’d get by pawning the bracelet.”

Nicky is observant. She can read people. While Blanca stands strong, Maritza’s daughter begins to cry and the teen mom takes herself out of the heated moment to tend to her daughter. Blanca is clearly just backing up her friend, doesn’t even know what the argument is about. Maritza doesn’t flinch once. Either she has a sociopath-grade poker face or she’s telling the truth.

“They don’t have it,” Nicky decides. “Let’s go.”

A second cigarette later, they finally tear Lorna away with the promise of ice cream. As they take a moment to regroup (mostly sit on a park bench in a tense silence) Nicky tries really hard to focus on figuring out a next step. Piper’s already in an immense amount of trouble with her parents and Lorna could potentially be in trouble with the police. Nicky Nichols is no hero, but she’d definitely jump at the opportunity to save her friend’s hot ass and hold it over her heads for the rest of eternity.

Nicky tries really hard to focus, but it’s kind of hard with the way Lorna is sitting next to her and taking her stress out on an ice cream cone. A vanilla soft serve ice cream cone from a truck to be exact. Nicky doesn’t even try to be discrete about watching. Lorna’s thoughts are racing, a downward spiral that shows in her eyes as her little pink tongue darts out and swirls around the ice cream over and over again. Nicky realizes she’s staring and would realize even without Piper elbowing her, but awareness does little for her self-control.

Then it hits her.

“I got an idea,” Nicky says. “Gossip Girl.”

“Gossip Girl?”

“Gossip Girl.” Nicky nods. “The bitch sees all or whatever, right? We tell Gossip Girl we’re missing the thing. If she puts it out there and someone comes forward with the bracelet then we owe her one.”

“Owe her one?” Piper asks skeptically. “What does that even mean?”

“Hell if I know.” Nicky shrugs and makes the mistake of glancing from Piper to Lorna, who has ice cream on the tip of her nose, but doesn’t let it stop her eager licks. “We, uh, we can figure that out later. Right now getting the bracelet back is top priority, right?”

“Fine.” Piper gives in. “Do it.”

“You got a picture of the bracelet, Morello?” Nicky asks.

At this point, Lorna has ice cream all over the lower half of her face, dripping down her lips. Nicky imagines licking it off her, learning what cheap ice cream tastes like off of Lorna’s lips. But that isn’t realistic. In reality, Nicky hands her a napkin instead. Lorna gives her phone to Nicky just as Piper’s phone ring and she walks out of earshot to answer it.

“Nice selfies.” Nicky chuckles as she clicks through Lorna’s phone, looking for the perfect picture to send to Gossip Girl. “So Red basically paid you to play dress up with Chapman the other day, huh?”

“Nichols, why am I like this, you think?”

The heaviness of the question puts Nicky’s quest on pause as she lowers the phone and looks over at Lorna, who’s head is tilted to the side, getting the best angle possible to crunch on the wafer cone that Nicky’s always thought tasted like plastic.

“What? Being prone to fucking up once in a while? I think they call that being a human being.”

Lorna shakes her head resolutely. “I mean, the shit I do specifically.”

"I don't know. I do know shoplifting is larceny in New York. I know if the shoplifter is a minor the victim can sue the legal guardians for the retail value of what was stolen if it isn't returned. I know you regret what you did and I know you wanna fix it and that makes you, eh, a decent human being.”

When Lorna shakes her head again, Nicky doesn’t hesitate to let her hand ghost down from Lorna’s shoulder to her fidgeting fingers. Nicky gives her a comforting squeeze that has Lorna lifting her head to look at Nicky through her wet lashes.

“Anyone ever tell you that you say the sweetest things, Nichols?”

The sarcasm in her voice makes Nicky chuckle. It also reassures her that Lorna’s going to be okay, that she’s hanging in there, even if it is by a thread. Nicky knows no amount of girls she fucks into the bathroom wall will change the way she’s drawn to Lorna Morello, but she has her fingers crossed that time will usher them in a more platonic direction. The way Nicky can’t stop wanting to smile at the sweet smudge of ice cream on Lorna’s adorable, hot mess of a face says otherwise.

 

 

…

 

 

_Calling all White Knights! Following in Cinderella’s forgetful footsteps, it seems our Queen P and N Nasty, have misplaced the priceless jewels as seen below. Seems fairy tales are back in style as our favorite fair maidens await a white knight to roll in and rescue their evening. For anyone with information, P and N might be able to provide you with a little happily ever after, at least for a night. -GG_

 

 

…

 

 

_GG made us sound like sluts!_

Piper briefly looks over her grammar before hitting the send button.

Seconds later, her phone rings with a reply from Nicky:

 

_I got the pussy covered but I ain’t suckin no dick. That’s all you Chapman. Take one for the team._

 

“Who are you texting?”

Piper instinctively shoves her phone back into her clutch and turns to Larry, who’s right beside her. He went all out with the costume, wearing a black velvet cape and a hat shaped like a pastry. Larry even had a plastic toy sword that apparently “came with the costume” but his father (thankfully) convinced him to leave it at home. He isn’t wearing his mask at the moment, making the dissatisfaction on his face that much more obvious.

“You’re having an awful time, aren’t you?” he asks.

“No!” Piper glances around at the carriage they’re sitting in as they ride through picturesque Central Park. The driver (not to mention the horse) just up ahead of them, probably eavesdropping, but paid to pretend he isn’t. “I’m just a little preoccupied. A fancy, expensive dinner and now this, it’s all really sweet, Larry.”

“Can’t you just forget everything for a second? Forget that Nicky Nichols got you into a mess, which I hate to say it, but I warned you she would. Just think about us here, you and me and the carriage driver and Seabiscuit. I feel like I haven’t seen you in months and when I do see you your head is a million miles away.”

“I know. I’m sorry. With school and my family…”

“But you can make time to hang out with Nicky and her delinquent friends?”

Piper flinches at the sharp accusation.

“She’s my lab partner,” Piper blurts out. She hears the defensive edge to her voice and realizes it isn’t exactly relevant, but it isn’t a lie either. Leaving out certain details is so much easier than lying straight to his face.

“And what?” Larry pushes. “You’re running around Brooklyn working on a science experience?”

Experimentation is involved, yes, just not scientific. Well, possibly biology.

“You know I hate when you use Gossip Girl to keep tabs on me,” Piper says flatly. She stares down at the thick layers of her dress, ignoring the way Larry tries his hardest not to give in to her even though they both know he will. He always does.

“Jeez, Pipes, I’m sorry. I just…I feel like a dumb gossip site is more involved in your life than I am and I’m your boyfriend.”

“If your definition of ‘involved’ is stalking me then, yeah, Larry, exactly!” Piper shouts. She folds her arm and massages the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath of air that smells vaguely of horse manure. “Unlike Gossip Girl, I actually want you in my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Piper pulls that stupid hat off his head and touches his dark, bristly hair as she kisses him with eyes shut tight. Maybe kissing will make her forget. Like how kissing Alex Vause makes her temporarily forget her boyfriend who attempts romantic dates involving carriage rides and looks so fucking insecure over the idea of being unwanted and rejected by her. Maybe Larry can make her forget about Nicky and this black hole of a world she’s opened, a world Piper is no longer knee deep in, but that has swallowed her whole. Forget Morello and the bracelet. Forget Alex Vause. Larry makes a desperate effort with his tongue in her mouth and his eager hands all over her. He tries, _really_ tries.

(She never tells him, but he fails.)

 

 

…

 

 

_They say looks can be deceiving, but sometimes what we see is what we know to be true, but refuse to believe. En garde, Upper East Siders. Let the bawl begin. –GG_

 

 

…

 

 

Piper actually decides on a mask Morello picked out for her. It’s a beautiful, ivory mask with a butterfly on one side and nude lace all around. It goes well with her off the shoulder champagne gown with a sexy lace neckline. It really is a miracle that she managed to find a decent gown on such short notice. The thought leads back to the boutique and Piper swallows dryly, holding Larry’s arm even tighter.

The moment they step out of the cab outside of the hotel they’re met with camera flashes. Five minutes after they walk in through the door, photos of her and Larry (some with Larry cropped out) are up on the Gossip Girl site. Piper resists the urge to check the comments, knowing someone is bound to anonymously mention how Larry looks more jester than prince.

Knowing there isn’t much more she can do in the bracelet department or the Gossip Girl department, Piper puts what little energy she has left into going through the motions. Larry and Piper make their way into the ballroom and go straight to the photo booth, posing for a few elegant, demure photos and even more goofy ones.

Even with her skin buzzing from nerves and anxiety, Piper can’t help, but search the dimly lit ballroom for one particular face that might be wearing glasses or not. Even with Larry so close that their skin brushes every few seconds, Piper can’t help, but wonder about Alex Vause, if she’s arrived yet and what she’s wearing…

“Is that Polly with Pete Harper?” Larry asks.

At the very center of the dance floor, Pete, dressed in a proper, ruffled suit with an actual jester’s hat, twirls Polly in a circle before dipping her low, making her face light up with laughter. Piper loves Polly to death, but she’s always had a knack for trying too hard. Tonight, though, she looks absolutely stunning in a silk, scarlet dress and a black feather mask.

“Yep,” Piper replies. “I think I might have unintentionally hooked that up.”

“Well, you’ve created a fancy footed monster.”

Piper puts on a pleasant smile as they walk toward Larry’s parents, sitting at a table where you’d think you’d have to be Jewish to have a seat. They’re all lawyers and accountants with their wives giggling behind metal filigree masks and buried beneath fur coats. Piper knows her parents are around, but wouldn’t be hanging out with Larry’s parents. The social hierarchy within the Upper East Side doesn’t just extend beyond high school, but intensifies with age.  

Larry’s parents greet her warmly, though it doesn’t feel as comfortable as it maybe should be. They’ve met at least a dozen times now, but the air kisses and the stiff hugs never feel quite right.  

“Larry,” his father almost sings in a baritone voice. “There’s someone I want you to meet. A fellow Harvard man like myself. Maybe he can talk some sense into your thick skull about the importance of higher education.”

“What about you, Piper?” his mother asks. “Any interest in Harvard?”

“Mom,” Larry whines. “We’ve talked about this. Piper’s going to Smith.”

“Well, maybe you should take Piper’s lead and start thinking about college and the future, Leonard,” his mom shoots back.

“Yeah, Leonard, listen to your mother,” Piper teases from just over his shoulder. “You should go and mingle. I should probably go find my parents and show face. Well, you know what I mean.”

Larry hasn’t let go of Piper’s gloved hand since the carriage ride and really doesn’t want to right now. He presses a light little kiss to her cheek before finally moving his hand away and untangling her arm from his.

Honestly, Piper isn’t too sure what it is her father actually does. She just knows he has an office on Wall Street and is very involved in the Stock Market. His deep involvement is what pays for their lifestyle at the expense of a terrible amount of stress. Piper knows this and so she shows her appreciation in little ways, like not asking questions.

Piper leans forward on the tips of her toes, searching the crowd for a particularly wild set of hair framing a lion mask. No one has responded to _Gossip Girl: Special Lost and Found Edition_ so maybe it’s time to think up a Plan C.

Before Piper can spot either Nicky or Morello, she’s distracted by none other than Alex Vause, who’s at the top of the staircase in a gorgeous black dress that touches the floor and trails behind her. Her intricate mask is akin to Catwoman, but sexier. Instead of hiding all, but the eyes like Nicky’s, it only covers the area around her eyes much like Piper’s. Her escort is a man in an expensive suit and a terrifying wolf mask, wielding a silver cane. Three men follow just behind them, wearing significantly less showy suits, but identical wolf masks. When she spots Piper, Alex ditches the wolves she apparently runs with and approaches Piper on a solo hunt.

“Your mask does a terrible job at hiding your identity,” Piper says.

“Speak for yourself,” Alex shoots back. She folds her bare, tattooed arms and devours Piper with her eyes. “Just as I thought, you look horrendous.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s exactly why you can’t take your eyes off me.”

Alex laughs, but remains cool, hardly ever embarrassed or at least, hardly ever showing it. “Wow. It’s been a whole thirty seconds and you haven’t shoved your foot in your mouth. Maybe you should wear a mask all the time.”

A tall, bulky man in a wolf mask steps up behind Alex and sets his red eyes on Piper. She realizes right away that they’re probably colored contacts, but that rational doesn’t stop Piper’s smile from fading. When Alex looks over her shoulder, she scoffs and Wolf Mask quickly backs away, fading into the crowd with a wink.

“Friends of yours?” Piper asks.

“An on-duty business associate,” Alex answers. “Lucky for me, I happen to be off the clock tonight. How about we get a few drinks and then you can give me a little tour?”

“I didn’t even get a chance to look around.”

“Well then, we can explore together.”

Piper looks up to the balcony where Larry is with his parents and an older gentleman, trapped in a typical high society conversation. Larry forces a laugh like he was taught to from a young age, trained to be polite and engaging. Piper then turns back to Alex, who tips her head toward the bar in an encouraging manner. Piper shakes her head and grinds her heels against the polished floor. She needs to stay grounded and Alex Vause has the exact opposite effect on her.

“Shit’s going down, Al,” Piper says. “Morello could be in big trouble and I—”

“Hey, relax.” Alex touches her arm in an intended act of comfort that quickly turns sexy. Piper takes a deep breath as Alex squeezes her hand. “Alright. Now catch me up and don’t forget to breathe.”

 

 

…

 

 

Nicky likes to think Red does things with only the best intentions and hidden lessons, but forcing her to attend this dumb ball and on such short notice just feels cruel. She’s had enough of this shit growing up, when her mom dragged her around and she had no choice in the matter. Then she caught Nicky getting high in the bathroom with a few other society kids and the demands to attend ceased entirely. Nicky hates all this themed party shit. It’s supposedly for a good cause, the proceeds going toward whatever charity is fashionable this month, but in reality, it’s just another excuse for the rich to drink and dress up and gather to judge each other.

“Or-dervs, miss?”

Nicky smiles to herself because fuck, finally, someone she wants to see. She turns around and there’s Lorna looking so tiny, holding a giant tray of hors d’oeuvres. Honestly, the bite-size snacks on the tray all look so uniform and beautiful. Red had to have taken Nicky’s suggestion to TiVo Martha Stewart and study it religiously. Red smacked her upside the head at the suggestion, but this is so far from the hearty comfort food from the motherland that usually comes out of the Dmitri’s kitchen.

Lorna looks hot per usual, hair neatly pinned back, wearing a crisp white shirt and fitted black slacks with a red bowtie. Nicky won’t say it, of course, but she knows she’s so transparent when it comes to this girl. Luckily, Lorna’s clueless half the time and with all the dumb drama surrounding the dumb necklace, Lorna’s in her Trying Too Hard to Pretend Everything’s Okay mode.

“ _Hors d’oeuvres_ ,” Nicky says teasingly. “What? Did Red write it phonetically on your hand or something?” Nicky takes Lorna’s free hand, inspecting it, playing with Lorna’s fingers a bit, feels a little of the tension in her muscles relax.

Suddenly, Lorna’s face turns so grave. “Any word from Gossip Girl?”

Nicky glances at the screen of her phone. “Nope.”

Lorna shuts her eyes and nods her head, letting the sense of dread soak in. She sneaks a peek over at Nicky with one eye first and then both. “Hey, you don’t look half bad either, Nichols. Clean up well, don’t ya?” 

Nicky smirks, tugging on the lapels of her black blazer worn over a short black dress and her scuffed, black Doc Martens. She didn’t even try to do shit with her hair, knowing the sheer size and uncontrollable nature of it would work well with the full-face lion mask that looks badass. Even if her attendance wasn’t a last minute obligation, Nicky would probably still turn up looking this way and not giving a shit about the disapproving glances she gets from around the room.

“I-I’m sorry about all this, Nic,” Lorna says weakly. “Not only are Piper’s parents mad at her on account of me, but they think you’re a bad influence.”

Nicky laughs and the sound echoes back against her thanks to the mask. “Don’t worry about it. I’m use to upper crust asshats blaming me for the shit their kids get into. No biggie. Martyr Nicky at your service.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t know you like they should. Fuck them, right?” 

Sometimes Nicky can’t bear the way Lorna looks at her. Nicky can’t even bring herself to try and decode what’s being said in those big, shiny brown eyes. She doesn’t let herself go there because she knows for a fact that Lorna is completely and totally unaware. Mostly, Nicky doesn’t let herself go there because it fucking hurts.

“Ay, Morello, shouldn’t you be, y’know, working?”

“Always so pushy,” Lorna complains, but with a playful little note in her voice. “And if things get bad with the bracelet and everything and I don’t see ya for a while, I just wanna say thanks, you know, for everything.”

“Wait, why do you sound like you’re giving up?”  

Lorna shrugs her shoulders and has to use both hands to support the weight of the metal tray of finger food. “Let’s face it, that bracelet is long gone. I fucked up and I gotta deal with it. If Red wasn’t counting on all of us, I’d say let’s get outta here, have one last crazy night, but…” She lifts her shoulders once again, just to let them drop, accepting what’s to come, but still so unaware of the severity, that she actually broke the law.

“I know it probably sounds like shit coming from me of all people, but have hope, yeah?”

Lorna nods frantically. “Now, are ya gonna take one of these tiny, _itty bitty_ sandwiches or not? I swear they’re like food for dolls. How are none of these people just gobbling ‘em up?”

Nicky’s lips pull into a smile as she lifts her mask and pops one of the finger sandwiches into her mouth. As she watches Lorna walk away, offering more hors d’oeuvres, Nicky squeezes her fingers tight around her phone. She keeps glancing down, thinking she feels it vibrating, hopefully with good news from Gossip Girl, but it’s not. Nicky tries to distract herself for the moment, checks out all the hot girls in costume and the dude juggling fire, but her eyes always drift to Lorna who's always gravitating toward Christopher. 

Even with everything going on, Lorna still finds the time to ogle a guy that would rather not know she exists. Not that she would admit this to anyone aloud, but it’s a big part of why Nicky didn’t want to be here in the first place. She gets enough of this at Crazy Lou’s or wherever Christopher’s lame band is playing. Knowing Lorna only has eyes for Christopher is one thing, but seeing it is something else entirely.

“The food here is shit.”

And there’s another reason.

Natalie Figueroa (who hates being called "Fig" so everyone does behind her back) is a senior at Constance Billard and was Gossip Girl's main squeeze up until picking Piper out of the blue. It's tradition for Gossip Girl to pick an "It-Girl" and track her and her inner circle up until graduation, but for reasons still undisclosed and heavily speculated, out of the blue Gossip Girl dropped Fig and picked up Piper. Naturally, Fig is scary bitter about it.

Fig is off to the side, near the fountain spouting punch, wearing a dress that's a dark, near black shade of purple and an extravagant headpiece with protruding horns. A look that definitely suits her. She's with Susan Fischer, who is super nice and naïve (and Nicky would totally hit that if given the opportunity). Angela Kuznick is also with them and she is just as interested in Lorna’s attempt to talk to Christopher as Nicky, but less discrete about it.

“The entertainment is worse than the food,” Angela replies. She lowers her jeweled mask on a stick and takes a sip of her spiked punch. 

Usually, Nicky would ignore the bitches and the shit they say, but for some reason she can’t even rationalize in her head, Nicky moves closer and goes to pour herself a cup of punch. Christopher manages to sneak away from Lorna and joins them. When he tries to wrap his long arm around Angela, she stubbornly shuffles away.

“What?” Christopher asks confusedly.

Fig laughs, such a snobby sound, complete with the slight head tilt back. “Angela isn’t entertained. I, on the other hand, am thanks to your little stalker offering us the shit food every thirty seconds. The girl is like a sad, broken record.”

Nicky’s grip on the metal punch ladle tightens until she starts to shake.

“Angela,” Christopher whines. “You act like I knew she was going to be here, which I didn’t.”  

“I don’t know,” Susan interjects, fiddling with her encrusted silver mask. “I think she’s sort of sweet.”

“She’s annoying,” Christopher says. “And I have no idea what she’s saying when she’s talking and she isn’t even that pretty—”

Before he can continue, Nicky accidentally (on purpose) spills her vodka punch concoction all over Christopher, sure to flick her wrist and ensure some of the droplets fly in the girls’ direction.

Fig pulls back with a gasp. “Are you kidding! Nichols, you bitch!”

“Aw, shit. My bad. How clumsy of me.”

Nicky gives them her best, most genuine glare and curses when she realizes her mask hides it all. So done with all of this and all of these fucking people, Nicky promptly turns and stomps away, ignoring Fig fuming behind her.

 

 

…

 

 

There’s a maze of mirrors in a smaller ballroom connected to the main one where the ball is being held. Piper and Alex wander in and around, hand in hand, but only when no one else is around. Some of the mirrors distort their reflection while others are almost too clear and arranged in a way that leaves you surrounded by yourself, exposing every one of your physical flaws before your very eyes.

“No one told me I look like an American Girl doll!” Piper exclaims.

Alex winces when she sees her reflection beside Piper’s. “I went for badass with this outfit, not the Black Swan after she loses her shit.”

“I love Swan Lake!”

“Hmm, yeah, Natalie Portman on Mila Kunis was pretty hot.”

“That’s not what I meant, Alex.”

Alex presses up behind Piper and slides her hand around her, fingers feeling over the soft lace of Piper’s dress. Piper turns her body a little and looks at Alex from over her shoulder. When Alex meets her eyes, Piper inhales sharply. Alex raises her thin, dark eyebrows in a challenge, but also a question. It’s always Alex pressing, Alex pursuing and Piper going with it, Piper letting her. Alex offers her an out just before they drown in each other, but Piper never takes it.

“What is it about you?” Piper mutters, distractedly detecting each and every shade of green in Alex’s eyes that aren't hiding behind a pair of glasses for once.

“What do you mean?”

“You make me forget like, _really_ forget.”

“Okay?” Alex laughs. “You’re going to need to elaborate on this one, kid.”

“When I’m around you and _with_ you, everything else seems so distant, so insignificant,” Piper explains. It’s something she struggles with by the way her eyebrows narrow in such deep contemplation. “I forget who I am, that I’m Piper _Chapman_ and the standard of excellence that comes with the Chapman name. I forget that I’m supposed to be dating this really nice, but totally safe rich boy from a respected family. I’m in deep, deep shit with legal ramifications, but all I care about is being here with you looking at me like _that_.”

“All of this is supposed to be a good thing, right?”

“In the long run? I haven’t figured that out yet, but here, now, definitely.”

Alex hums softly, righting in Piper’s ear. “Ah, so there’s a long run?”

When Alex hitches one eyebrow higher than the other, Piper decides that she’s so done with talking. Piper reaches up, threading her fingers into Alex’s soft, dark hair as she pulls her closer. Before their mouths can meet, their masks clash in this awkward, slightly painful way that makes both of them laugh. Piper pushes her mask up into her hair, whispers, “let’s try that again,” and brings their lips together with much more success.

 

 

…

 

 

Lorna isn’t a kleptomaniac or anything. She doesn’t get off on stealing. From a very young age it was always more of a game between her and her siblings. They would see if they could get away with taking little things like pieces of candy or gum. It was a game Lorna grew up to be really, really good at.

Though she tries not to, Lorna thinks of all the things Nicky had said about the boutique owner suing her family if the merchandise isn’t recovered in sellable condition. The Morellos struggle to put food on the table and keep the lights on. Franny, who’s a good person, the best Lorna has ever known, used sex to pay for parking tickets. Lorna realizes the trouble she’s caused for her family with this bracelet situation, another thing on a long list that spans years.

Spotting Christopher in the ballroom is the one thing that makes Lorna feel better, distracts her from everything going on. He looks so handsome and dashing in his long coat and modest black mask. Lorna would recognize him even without the getup. The only thing she regrets is how she notices Angela first. It grinds her gears that they’re together again and she missed her chance with him the night of the rave. Once she thinks it, Lorna is quick to remind herself that she did it for Nicky. She reminds herself that Nicky is worth it.

“Hor-dervs?”

Angela shifts closer to her boyfriend, draping herself all over him once she notices Lorna’s presence. “No thanks for the thousandth time.”

“Angela…” Christopher groans.

“No. I’m tired of this.” Angela looks right at Lorna from behind a princess metal mask. “We’re tired of your sad little crush on _my_ boyfriend. Christopher is tired of you stalking him all the time, but he’s too nice to say anything. You aren’t even friends. He doesn’t even like you.”

“No, I-I know that,” Lorna squeaks. “I just really like the band.”

Angela laughs. “Come on. No one likes their band.”

“Angela!” Christopher calls out in protest, but it obviously isn’t in Lorna’s defense.

“Your band is terrible and I still choose you,” Angela says gently, bringing her hand to Christopher’s clean-shaven cheek. They stare at each other, nearly forgetting that Lorna is right in front of them, her sticky fingers trembling against the metal tray and tears clouding her eyes.

“Um, if you don’t want any of these fancy kabobs, I’ll just move along,” Lorna says awkwardly. She starts to back away, bobbing a little. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Hey, if I ever see you near my boyfriend again, you’ll regret it.”

Lorna feels her anger on the rise, a feeling she’s so familiar with. She’s instinctively polite, but as she walks away, Lorna knows she could take Angela. Lorna is a Morello, born and raised in Brooklyn. She’s on the verge of losing herself to her anger, but then she notices the way Christopher isn’t even concerned for her, too busy looking at Angela like a lovesick puppy. The poor guy. He’s so confused and it just makes Lorna so sad all of a sudden.

“Everything okay here, Morello?” Tricia asks, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. Just fine!”

Tricia nods, but her eyes are racing around the room. “Yo, have you seen Nicky? She promised she’d be my wingman with Mercy. I’ve been around the room like twice and I can’t find her.”

“Uh, I saw her around here earlier. I’ll let her know you’re lookin’ for her if I see her.”

Lorna stays on the opposite side of the room from Christopher and Angela for the rest of the night, especially when the happy couple is on the dance floor, moving across it in a graceful series of steps like they were born and raised to, being society kids living a lifestyle that requires such knowledge. Lorna wishes she didn’t want it as much as she does.

When she finally clears her tray, Lorna returns to the kitchen. She puts on a smile and forces a little bounce into her step. Red and everyone working in the back are stressed out as is. She doesn’t need her problems bringing anyone else down except herself. When she walks inside, the first person Lorna sees is Nicky. Her hair is contained in a high ponytail and her mask is off, left on a counter along with her blazer as she kneads dough, elbow deep in flour. It’s a miracle none of it has gotten on her dress yet.

“Hey Nichols! Tricia’s lookin’ for you and oh! Did you see Poussey out there? She looks exactly like the Phantom of the Opera! You know the Phantom of the Opera, right? I bet you’ve even seen it on Broadway, got a Playbill and everything.” Lorna spins a bit on the tips of her toes. “Wait a minute, why are you in here and not out there?”

“Because.”

Lorna waits for her to elaborate, but Nicky doesn’t. She can tell Nicky is in one of her moods and Lorna really doesn’t want to fight with her right now. With everything that’s happening and how desperate she is to ignore it all, Lorna doesn’t have it in her to go through the verbal ringer with Nicky, especially with Nicky nearby.

“What’s a matter?” Lorna asks gently. 

“Nothing.”

When Nicky angrily slams the dough against the floured counter, Lorna looks to Norma and Gina, who are both quiet, keeping their heads down as they hustle around the kitchen. Even if they did know something, their demeanor says their lips are sealed. Lorna notices how Red is already massaging her temples and presses her lips together. She knows better than to ask Red about Nicky.

“Nichols…”

“What? I’m working, which you should be doing for the millionth fucking time in the last twenty-four hours. It’s the same old story anyway. I’m better off in here, doing what I can to lend a hand. Too many assholes out there.”

“Same could be said for back here,” Lorna mutters. Nicky hears, shakes her head, but says nothing as she continues to work. Lorna sees an apron, grabs it and holds it out to Nicky. “Here. At least don’t get flour all over your dress. It’s pretty, expensive-looking.”

“Why don’t you quit worrying about me and worry about yourself, Morello? I mean, you’re pretty fucked with this bracelet and still you find the time to fucking molest Christopher with your eyes.”

“Hey!” Red shouts, walking over to them, having had enough. “You two are done! It’s one thing to be at each other’s throats during prep in the restaurant. It’s another for you to bring your drama in here during something like this. Enough. If you can’t work together I’ll make sure you don’t work together anymore.”

“Sorry, Red.”

“It won’t happen again, ma.”

Red crosses her arms and looks between the girls, gauging their sincerity. “You know, when my boys fight I make them hug for a whole minute and kiss twice on the cheeks and once on the lips. Once they hit their teens it got weird and they never fought in front of me again.”

“Ma, don’t tell them that!” one of the brothers shouts from across the kitchen.

“I don’t think Nichols would see that as a punishment.” Gina laughs.

“Can we please just get back to work? Jesus.” Nicky throws Lorna a glance and rips the apron out of her hands, carefully slipping it on over her dress. Lorna beams and Red wears a smile so smug you’d think Nicky were her actual daughter and that’s where she inherited it.

“Alright!” Red shouts. “We’ve made it this far. Let’s finish strong!”

“Yeah!” Lorna cheers.

Red gives Lorna a look, hands her a tray and pats the top of her head before ushering her back out to the ballroom.

 

 

…

 

 

After the fifth text from Larry asking where she is, Piper goes looking for her boyfriend. What she finds instead is her father arguing with a man in a wolf mask. It doesn’t look like Bill Chapman berating a low-level drug dealer for offering him a baggie of heroin. Bill yells at him the way he would yell at one of his employees. They’re clearly acquainted. This isn’t the first time their paths have crossed.

“Piper, there you are!” Larry shouts. “I’ve been looking everywhere!”

Before Piper can assure him that she’s been just as vigilant in her search for him, a symphony of cell phones go off. It’s like a chain reaction, a reminder that they haven’t actually gone back in time. Everyone under twenty pulls out their phones and accesses what is probably breaking news from Gossip Girl. Piper feels a flare of hope. Maybe it’s an update on the bracelet.

“Hey, sorry, Larry. You know how these things get. I got swept up in something…”

It feels like every other time—sliding her thumb across the notification on the screen of her phone and watching the Gossip Girl app open. But then everything is different. Everything is terribly, terribly different and just plain terrible. Piper has never been involved in a wild animal attack, but she can't imagine it feeling any worse than this surprise mauling.

On the front page of Gossip Girl is a stunningly clear photo of Piper and Alex locked in a hot kiss, lips parted, tongue exposed, and hands all over each other. 

There it is for the whole world to see. Alex is masked, but Piper isn’t. Gossip Girl was even thoughtful enough to provide individual pictures of both Piper and Alex in their masquerade outfits for comparison. They’re high-resolution photos at that. Gossip Girl is a fucking bitch. 

At the bottom is this little gem: 

_They say a picture is worth a thousand words and a thousand more questions. Didn't know the "P" stood for pussy. Did our Queen P kiss a girl and like it? What did I tell you earlier? Appearances may be deceiving, but mostly, we do believe what we see._

_Photo courtesy of one helpful little insider. Maybe you aren't so irrelevant after all. Have any nickname you like. You've more than earned it._

 

“What the hell, Piper?”

She hears the anger in Larry’s voice disrupted by a slight tremor that says all of his worst nightmares just came true in a matter of seconds and one Gossip Girl post. Piper thinks to reach out to him, but he’s pulling away from her before she can even think to lift a hand.

“Larry, it’s not…”

“No. _No_.”

Larry takes off like a rocket, pushing his way through the crowd that’s somehow formed around them. As Larry disappears, Piper is left with dozens of eyes locked on her. Most of them are in a stunned silence. As the seconds tick on, the whispers begin and pick up at an alarming pace and volume. Piper has always denied that she has a temper. Maybe because she gets too angry, lets the rage consume and blind her, lead her actions. Here and now is no different.

"Chapman!" Morello shouts, cutting through the crowd to reach her. "Look! I got it!" She holds up the stunning diamond bracelet. "So my sister's been sleeping with this pervy cop and when he was in the bathroom she went through the pockets of his sweatpants for his phone to, y'know, creep on his texts, see what other girls he's sextin', look for blackmail, the usual stuff, and the bracelet was in his pocket! Can you believe it?"

Piper remains perfectly still, muscles tense, barely breathing. She looks from Lorna to the bracelet and finally to her phone clenched in her shaking fist.

"Do you even realize what you fucking did?" Piper seethes. It radiates off of her in invisible waves that crash into Morello, whose smile slowly fades. 

"Hon, I don't know what you’re—"

"Don't!" Piper shouts. "So you reach out to Gossip Girl for help finding the bracelet and seconds after this stupid fucking picture hits the site, you magically have the bracelet again? You want me to believe it's a coincidence?"

"Yeah, because it is," Morello insists. "Chapman, I'm tellin' the truth."

Piper shakes her finger right in her face and Morello quickly goes on the defensive.

"People think I'm so fucking naive? Well, I'm not!" Piper laughs, crazed. "And you have the audacity to feed me some bullshit story about your sister? I should have known better."

"Should'a known better?" Morello repeats, growing angry herself. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just give me the bracelet and get back to work." If she weren't so goddamn angry, Piper would probably hear her mother in what she just said and cringe, but can't care to self-critique at the moment. 

"What? You're ordering me around like the help now?"

"Isn't that what you are? Why else would you be here?" 

Morello's jaw clenches and her hands coil into fists, but the way her eyes glaze over gives her away. "I'm sorry you're pissed about whatever crawled up your ass, but I'm not gonna apologize for something I didn't do." Morello holds out the bracelet and Piper snaps it away. "Fuck you, Chapman."

"Thank you!" Piper shouts after Morello who turns away, proudly displaying her middle finger. "I'll just return the bracelet you _shoplifted_ , you know, saving you from a criminal record and your family getting sued for more than you’re worth!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Nicky asks, pushing her mask up to the top of her head. Nicky's expression softens when she sees Morello close to tears. "Lorna, what's wrong?" Nicky reaches out to her, but the dark-haired girl just shoves off. A sob slips from her red lips as Morello breaks out into a run, heading to the staff entrance to the kitchen. Nicky stares after her, feels out the impulse to chase her and decides to narrow her eyes at Piper. "What the fuck happened?"

"She's a thief and a liar." Piper shoves her phone at Nicky. "Did you see this? Don't tell me it's a coincidence that the bracelet turns up just as this shows up on the site!" 

Nicky takes the phone and slides her finger down the screen. "You think Lorna sold you out?"

"What nickname do you think she'll choose instead of Jersey Shhh- _whore_? Brooklyn Backstabber works."

Piper searches the crowd for a different waiter, one dishing out flutes of champagne. As her temper tampers, she notices Nicky's swells.

"Come on, Nicky. I know you're in love with her, Googled New York criminal penalties for her, but you can't let that—”

"God, just stop, Chapman!" Nicky shouts. She shifts from foot to foot, eye twitching. "Contrary to what Gossip Girl suggests, not everything is about you! I would probably sell you out before Lorna Morello ever would."

"Did you miss the part where she shoplifted a bracelet worth more than a thousand dollars and harassed Maritza over it? She would have done anything to get it back."

"Because you were upset! Her brothers would probably respect her more for joining their delinquent club! Before finding out about the price point, of course. Mostly, Lorna was upset something she did was messing up _your_ life so she was determined to make it up to _you_."

"But what Gossip Girl wrote—”

"Fuck Gossip Girl!" Nicky bounces on her feet, clearly riled. "Settle in for a little story time, Chapman. Once upon a time, Red's husband owed some bigwig some cash so he sent his thug to the bakery after hours. The asshole held Lorna at knifepoint, demanding to know where Dmitri keeps his money, which we all know is behind the portrait of the dogs playing poker—that's where I got the idea. Did Lorna squeal to save her ass from, you know, death? No. She is a lot of things. _Loyal_ is definitely one."

Piper is too stunned to response. In all the years they've known each other, she doesn't think she's ever seen Nicky so mad, not all the times that led to Nicky with a detention slip in hand, not even when her mother failed to show up to a school function, leaving Nicky alone, surrounded by all the other girls and their families.

Nicky saves Piper the trouble of trying to reply and walks away, leaving Piper at the center of the ballroom, utterly alone.

 

 

…

 

 

Larry won’t answer her phone calls, a first in their relationship.

“Piper!”

Piper shudders at that low, smoky voice, but not for the typical reasons. Not like she’s a character in a cheesy romance novel, pulled in by Alex Vause’s magnetic field of hotness. Piper shudders when realizing how badly she wants to give in to Alex, knowing it will momentarily feel better, but actually make things worse. Alex walks over to her with such urgency in her long strides and Piper frantically stumbles away.

“Stay away from me, Alex.”

Alex’s confusion shows even with her mask. Piper feels it and what a dangerous feeling it is.

“Piper…”

“No, don’t.” Piper moves slowly, uncoordinated, trying to put even more space between them. “We can’t be seen together right now. It’ll just make things worse.”

Alex actually laughs at that, but Piper remains on edge, looking everywhere except at the dark-haired drug dealer in front of her. “Do you realize how you sound right now?”

“Do you realize my reputation is ruined?” Piper asks. The tremble of panic in her voice highlights the severity of the situation, but Alex remains on the verge of laughing. “School on Monday is going to be hell. Not to mention when my parents see or hear about this. What people will think and say about us then…”

“Just tell them it’s Photoshopped,” Alex says calmly. “It isn’t real.”

“Is it not?” Piper shoots back. “What we have, whatever the fuck this is, is it even real? What are we doing, Alex? My boyfriend isn’t answering my calls. He wouldn’t even look at me after seeing that picture! And _you_! You have a girlfriend!”

“I’d leave her for you if you told me to.”

The hairs on the back of Piper’s neck stand at the seriousness in Alex’s low voice combined with the look in her eyes like everything, even this is a game of Chicken and Alex Vause takes first prize every time. Piper shakes her head and moves even further away.

“Fuck you, Alex. Don’t pull your smooth Alex Vause shit on me right now. This isn’t the time.”

“I’m serious. Dead serious. You’re the one who freaks out at the idea of us being more, putting a name on it. You’re the one who cares oh so fucking much about what everyone else thinks. Piper Chapman, Bill Chapman’s little girl? _Gay_? Oh no, now we can’t invite them to the gala because she might get gay germs all over everything!”

“You don’t understand,” Piper says, gritting her teeth.

“No, I don’t,” Alex agrees. “I don’t understand and if understanding means being the asshole who verbally destroys someone as sweet as Lorna in front of all the other rich kids, treats her like  _the help_ then I don’t want to understand.”

“I fucked up, I know, but so did she.”

“You fuck up all the time,” Alex laughs, “but I still like you. I still want to see you every day and hear the pretentious things you have to say. You don’t know how infuriating that is.”

Alex steps closer, but Piper steps away yet again. She refuses to meet her eyes.

“I think we should give each other some space, at least till all of this becomes old news,” Piper says, trying so hard to stay strong. “I need to do damage control, get my life together, and I can’t do that when all you do is make me want to forget it all.”

“Piper…”

“No, stay away from me, Alex. I mean it.”

“Okay. Good luck with Larry.”

“Thank you.”

Piper regrets everything she just said, feels the urge to run after Alex, to take it all back, to kiss her and promise it won’t be the last. Before she can even glance over her shoulder at Alex’s retreating figure, Piper’s phone buzzes in her hand and it brings her back to where her priorities should be, back to reality.

Piper glances down and, of course, it’s another message from Gossip Girl:

 

_Oh yes! It is by far my favorite part of the ball! When the masks come off and the truth comes out for all to see._

 

Contrary to what Gossip Girl says, Piper knows it isn’t time to shed a mask, but revive an old one. Piper Chapman, the Glorified Good Girl, need to make a comeback. If that means no more crazy nights out with Nicky and Alex then so be it.

 

 

…

 

 

Lorna finds herself sitting on the top steps of the service stairwell behind the kitchen, listening to her sobs bounce off the walks and echo, traveling between floors. Lorna runs through everything she’s done in the last twenty-four hours, compiling a lengthy list of evidence justifying Piper’s anger and even Nicky’s. It was that stupid fucking bracelet’s fault!

No.

She shuts her eyes tight and shakes her head hard.

 _No_. Lorna’s the one to blame and she knows it. She doesn’t know why she took the bracelet, but she can’t deny loving the weight of it in her pocket, ready to explain that Piper had it in the changing room if someone stopped her on her way out of the boutique. Consequences didn’t even cross her mind. They rarely do when she’s lost in a moment, lost to her impulses and her unrealistic desires—the necklace, a different life, a boy with a soft sweater and a girlfriend, a certain grumpy schoolgirl with crazy hair.

Speaking of…

Lorna jumps at the sound of the door opening and there’s Nicky forcing her way past the door with that lion mask pushed up into that mane. Her fingers twisted around the neck of a champagne bottle. Nicky’s determination dims when she sees Lorna and suddenly the girl who’s never without a master plan looks like she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do here, but would really like to be smoking a cigarette right now. It’s silent and when Lorna notices, she realizes her sobs have stopped, that she’s ceased breathing altogether.

Nicky sits at Lorna’s side and shoves the bottle toward Lorna. “Forget Chapman, alright? She’s so wrapped up in her own shit. That wasn’t about you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was.” Lorna hiccups and Nicky motions to the bottle again, but Lorna shakes her head. “I-I messed up."

“Yeah, you did,” Nicky agrees, “but Piper was mad at Gossip Girl, _not you_. She shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you.” When it doesn’t look like Lorna’s going to take the bottle anytime soon, Nicky takes a swig of it herself. “Sure you don’t want any? Nice on the host. They sprung for the swanky shit.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask me if I did it?” Lorna asks. “If I ratted on Piper and Alex…”

Nicky looks right at her, disarming and unwavering. “I already know the answer. Of course you didn’t and that’s that.”

“You know that for a fact, huh?”

“I know _you_ ,” Nicky says quietly. Her voice breaks on that last syllable and she has to turn away. "C'mon, let's leave. Chapman’s got the bracelet so that’s all settled. This shit was lame from the start. I got a driver waiting downstairs. We can take you home."

"No, no, I gotta get back out there. Red—"

"Red said you could call it a night," Nicky interjects. "The party’s winding down anyway. Gina and Tricia and the boys got it covered."

"Then maybe I'm just not ready to go home yet."

"Everything okay with the family?"

"Super!" Lorna answers with a tad too much false reassurance. Nicky just tilts her head, concern deepening. "Franny and the creep cop are fucking _again_."

"Fuck that guy.” Nicky narrows her eyes, twisting her fingers tighter around the neck of the bottle. “He try anything with you?"

"You and Franny always think everyone wants to touch me."

"Honestly, Morello, it's hard to believe someone who'd say they didn't want to," Nicky says, and quickly realizes she said too much. "So if your room is occupied, where've you been sleeping at night?"

"Mikey passed out on the couch last night so I took his room. Other nights..."

"Other nights what?"

"Forget it. It ain't important."

"C'mon, now that you said it isn't important you know I'm not going to quit hounding you about it, right?" Nicky nudges her playfully. "So just tell me."

"Some nights after closing I'll sleep on the couch in Red's office."

"Are you serious? What if someone broke in while you were there and no one else was around? You could've gotten hurt or worse."

"But I didn't. I'm fine." Lorna reads Nicky and lays her hand on Nicky's arm. She knows that when it comes to Nicky, physical reassurance works best. 

"Why didn't you come over to my place? Lorna, we talked about this. When shit gets too heavy at home, come over."

"That was before everything... And things are so weird with us! One minute it’s like nothing changed and the next, we’re pickin’ fights and I don’t know anymore…"

The disquieting silence that follows is something that’s become more and more frequent between them. They clearly hate it, hate acknowledging that it's hovering over them and wedged between them. Nicky eventually rounds her arm around Lorna, who in turn leans into her.

"I'd rather you be at my loft and things feel, eh, not quite normal between us than you feeling unsafe anywhere else. And maybe if we do get over ourselves and hang out more, like we use to, things will start to feel less weird, yeah?" 

Lorna nods. "Yeah."

"Good. Now, c'mon," Nicky says. "This place makes my skin crawl and this mask makes my nose itch like fuck."

Lorna reaches for the lion mask nestled into Nicky's hair atop her head and drags it down back into place over Nicky's face.

"It's perfect on you." Lorna laughs. "I told Chapman, I said this mask would be _perfect_ on you when we were in that dress shop and look! It makes your hair look two times as big, which I know you love."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Nicky tucks strands of Lorna's dark hair behind her ear and climbs to her feet. " You need to grab anything from your house first? God knows all of your shit is still all over my place."

"Nope. You know, I left my Alg book at yours, but I've felt so weird about going over or even texting you about it so I've been going in early and staying late after school to use the copy in the library." 

"Are you serious? Maniac. You could have just texted me."

"What if you were busy with someone or something? I didn't want to bug you."

"Next time bug me,” Nicky says, nearly pressing their foreheads together. “I'm going to be actually upset if you don't bug me next time, alright? Alright. Now let's go home, kid."

“Home,” Lorna says softly beneath her breath. She thinks it, doesn’t even realize she said it aloud until Nicky looks over at her with one of those lopsided grins that make Lorna feel like she’s already there.

 

 

…

 

 

Piper sits on the steps of the ballroom that’s starting to clear out. Only people still in conversation, still on the dance floor or staggering drunk remain. All the masks have come off and hers sits in her lap. People keep walking by and giggling, but Piper pays them no attention, too focused on how lonely she feels right now.

All of her friends are nowhere in sight. Larry wants nothing to do with her and she pushed Alex away. It’s a loneliness she brought upon herself, overlaid with a thick layer of anger. Piper feels so much anger toward Gossip Girl, toward everyone and everything, especially herself.

“Come to the masquerade ball you said. It’ll be fun you said…”

Cal wears a tiny smile as he walks over to his sister. His appearance alone makes Piper feel a bit better if only for a second. Cal actually does have a sword hanging off his belt and a V for Vendetta mask with the mustache painted on and all. Cal pushes his mask up as he sits beside Piper on the far end of the staircase.

“You okay?” Cal asks.

“I’m starting to think you had the right idea, wanting to abandon all of this and go live in a trailer in the woods, foraging for food and being one with nature.”

“You’d ditch it to go get burgers and wine within the first hour.”

“Probably.”

Piper meets her brother’s eyes. “You saw the pictures?”

“Yup.”

“Do you think mom and dad saw the pictures?”

“Nah, but it’s only a matter of time before one of their snooty friends mentions it. Just tell them it’s some jealous girl who has it out for you and knows a person who knows a person who’s fantastic at photo manipulation. They’ll take your word over anyone else’s. You might not be Danny the Golden Son, but you aren’t, well, me.”

“I messed up _so_ bad, Cal. Then it all just snowballed out of control and I kept messing up. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Piper laughs miserably. “You have way more faith in me than I have in myself.”

“Well, you didn’t give up on me when I was kidnapped and ransomed by drug dealers. The Piper Chapman Apology tour should be cake compared to that.”

“You don’t think I’m disgusting and unworthy of the Chapman name?”

“Did you forget who you’re taking to?”

Piper hugs her brother’s arm and rests her head on his shoulder. “Let’s go get gelato.”

“Music to my ears, sis.”  

 

 

….

 

 

Alex looks over the emptying ballroom below and even though she's dressed appropriately, wearing a gown and a mask, she still feels so disconnected from it all. She feels like an imposter, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Unlike Lorna who agonizes over the disparity, Alex finds it exhilarating. She never strives to fit in, but gets off on moving around them unnoticed, like a pawn that ends up winning the entire game. 

"I walked by a group of teenage girls crowded around a cell phone, looking at a picture of you playing with your new toy."

The Man in the Wolf Mask twirls his cane as he walks up beside Alex.

"The Rockabilly Babe kissing the Queen P, actually," Alex says sourly. She’d probably be amused if not for the fight she just had with Piper. “Their words, not mine.” 

"If I investigate, am I going to find more of the so-called Rockabilly Babe?"

"It's a stupid teenage gossip blog. Calm down, Kubra."

"It's a liability. Did you know she was Chapman's daughter?"

"I assumed. How many Upper East Side girls have the last name Chapman? I met her before he shook your hand on the newest investment."

"Like fate dropped her in your lap. If only we could all be that lucky. Did she see me talking to her father?"

"I wasn't stalking her all night, but if she did she won't talk."

"She's beautiful. You've always had a taste for corrupting the young, innocent ones, haven't you? Make sure she doesn't talk. More importantly, make sure she doesn't stick her nose where it doesn't belong. The last thing we need is her talking daddy into growing a conscience."

Alex swallows hard, happy to be wearing the mask. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to follow these orders, especially with the way Piper practically tossed her aside and Alex let it happen. Regardless of the current circumstances, Alex angles toward her boss and mentor, giving him a cool, sly smile.

"Do I ever disappoint?" Alex asks.

"That's why you're my favorite, Vause."

 

...

 

_It's funny how transparency can thrive in a room full of masks. It’s terrifying how one night, one masquerade ball and one slipup caught on camera can change the game entirely._

_In other news…_

_At the top of our Best Dressed List, the dark horse, not the Newbie Military B P or the staggering Queen P, but the wildcard who puts the P in surprise. I see you coming at us, Polly Harper. Are you ready for the perfect storm? Hate to break it to you, insiders, but it’s already here._

_Xoxo_

_Gossip Girl_

**Author's Note:**

> Are you okay? I hope you took breaks while reading this. I am clearly a creature of excess. Thank you so much for your interest and your patience! I love this 'verse, but, honestly, this is getting exhausting to write. At the same time I realize this would be a terrible place to stop the story. Leave me a bit of inspiration if you please. 
> 
> Fun Fact: this thing is 55 pages at font size 12. I do it all for you.


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